My Package Qualifications

Freedom! Mom's visiting relatives in West Virginia, where we all know there's no Internet, and Dad says he's on a "business trip", but without havin' the goods on him, I'll have to take his word for it. So, after long deliberation, checking local statutes, and making sure their homeowner's policy was up  to date, they decided to leave me home by myself. I had to agree to call Uncle Ebenezer and Aunt Florence (Eb and Flo, as I calls 'em) if I needed anything, but right now everything's as fine as frog's hair.

Freedom! Vienna Sausages for breakfast, Popsicles for lunch, Fruit Loops for dinner! But who can remember to eat when I have 24-hour Internet access, without Mom looking over my shoulder and monitoring my every online movement?

So I set up this double-secret e-mail address, and for some reason, I start getting these peculiar e-mails: Croatian pharmacies offer to make me tumescent, Ugandan princes want to go halvsies on their birthright fortunes, and girls with names like Anne Arkey and Heather Heath wanna meet me.

Then I get this e-mail asking about my "package qualifications". At first I'm intrigued, thinking it's from my recent Internet friend Angie O'Plasty, whose conversations have become rather intimate, what with her asking about my age, my mom's secret emergency bank account and my dad's social security number. Turns out this e-mail is some guy wanting me to enroll in classes, with an available grant amount of $5,743.00. All I had to do was fill out the application.

How dumb does he think I am? Why would I want to go to more classes than I already am? And why would I take his stupid grant money when Angie already promised me free money after I gave her my dad's social security number?

My dad sure isn't very good at hiding things. His card was in his dresser drawer, under his medicated foot powder.

Now I have to call Eb and Flo. I'm almost out of Popsicles.

 

 

Angie sent me her pic. She looks like a nice girl.